Dear me, dead me
by MadClairvoyant
Summary: Sirius just cannot escape his family; even from their grave they haunt him.
1. The little surprise

Harry's trial had just blown over, and everyone was sitting at the dinner table, exhausted by the day's excitement, and probably by last night's patrolling duty. Molly's delicious dinner was the focus of everyone's attention. Like everyone else, Sirius fell on the food like a starving man. Soon, after the dinner was cleared everyone was just sitting there, chatting happily, when they heard a loud scream from upstairs. Instinctively, Moody's wand was out, and the grisly old auror, looked as though he would charge upstairs. Most of their faces had blanched; they had sent the children upstairs because they needed to discuss a few details. And God alone knows what horrors laid in the depths of this 'hellhole', in Sirius' words.

"Perhaps it was the boggart?" Mrs Weasley suggested weakly. Moody nodded, and stood up.

Rushing upstairs, they arrived at a corridor where there were several rooms, but most of which had already fallen into disuse. Typical of this house, it was very dark, and dusty, and there was only one source of lighting; a gothic lamp in the middle of it casted sinister shadows on the neighbouring walls. Most of the doors looked identical; they were painted a very dark green, and the doorknobs looked disturbingly like serpents, coiled and ready to strike. All in all, it was a very unpleasant place, and most of them shuddered a little.

Listening carefully, Sirius seemed to pick up the sound of shuffling somewhere, for he hurtled along the corridor, Moody hot on his heels. Idly, Tonks wondered why Sirius' face had turned so dark, and he was scowling furiously as he marched up, overtaking even Moody in his zeal.

Muttering angrily under his breath, he swore. "If they found something stupid in that prat's room, I going to…" An unintelligible string of curses followed. As he laid one pale hand on the cool doorknob, he glared at the pompous little sign the door; _Do not enter without the express permission of Regulus Arcturus Black_.

The silly little thing had annoyed him endlessly because honestly, did he think a sign would keep him out of the room? Heavens forbid! But he knew that his brother was up to his eyeballs in Dark Arts, and so he was wary to enter his room now. It had been sixteen years since he last set foot in the house, or seen his brother; he had no way of knowing what sort of defences the git would have set up to keep people out. He hoped it was only a boggart, because if it was a spell gone wrong…

Wrenching open the door, he walked into the room and observed the scene, unable to suppress both his worry and his amusement. Harry was standing at the bedpost, eyes wide with shock and face drained of colour. The little Weasley girl, (Jenny? Ginny?)was standing at the corner, her expression of horror echoed on Granger's face. It must have been either one of them who screamed then. And then there were the three Weasley boys, Harry's best friend, and the twins, who obscured his view of the bed.

It was odd; what on earth did that idiot brother of his put on his bed? He would have been horrified by the family crest that had been painted carefully on the wall, but then again, they were looking at the bed, not the wall behind it. Shrugging, he approached them, confident that it couldn't be too bad, because no on was dead yet, and besides, the most of the Order was behind him. Unfortunately, things were not going the way he wanted them to.

On the dark green covers, pale and still as death, laid his most assuredly _dead _brother, Regulus Black.


	2. Reviving a corpse

Blanching, he cautiously approached the body, convinced that it was a corpse, but seventeen-year-old bodies tended to give off a rotting smell that this one did not. What on earth could have kept his brother frozen at eighteen for almost two decades?

Laying on long-fingered hand Regulus' smaller one, he nearly jumped back in surprise. He was ice-cold, and yet… beneath his pale, paper-thin skin, there was a pulse. It was slow, sluggish, and yet it was _there, _constant and unstopping. Relief flooded him, and it was undoubtedly surprising. Hadn't their last words been '_I hate you'_? And yet as he gazed into his brother's face, taking in the familiar hair, cheekbones, lips, pale skin, he realized just how much he missed the silly little boy. No matter how angry or disappointed he was with Regulus, no matter how they argued over the stupidest of things, he would always see the young child that had been his little shadow for years.

Watching his brother's still form brought certain unwelcome memories to mind, and so he repressed them, instead setting his brain to work. What could have caused his brother's unaging state, and left him nearly dead? Contrary to popular belief, Sirius wasn't dumb, and as the little pieces, fell into place, he realized exactly what was wrong with Regulus.

"Kreacher!" He bellowed. The greenish, wrinkled thing appeared, grumbling angrily under his breath. As he raised his head, he spotted the boy and began wailing loudly.

"Master Regulus! Master Regulus! How did you find him?"

Sighing impatiently, Sirius snapped. "Never you mind, just give me the antidote to the Draught of Living Death. _Now._" The old house-elf looked mutinous, but he could not disobey a direct order from his master; instead, he settled for a look of utmost loathing and disgust before disapparating with a loud crack.

The silence that followed was deafening. Finally, Harry broke it with a tentative question.

"Who is that?"

Moody was the one who answered shortly. "The other half of the infamous Black brothers; Regulus Black. Prominent Death Eater, suspect in the McKinnons' disappearance, and in the murder of the Greens. Disappeared one day about twenty years ago; a cold case." Instinctively, the children edged away from the bed, and Sirius smiled grimly. He knew that his brother had gotten really deep into the mess years ago, but of course, Harry and the rest of kids did not grow up

in the war; they didn't understand that it was in for a penny, in for a pound. They didn't sit in the Great Hall, watching people get black envelopes form the Ministry and weeping, wondering who would be next. They didn't understand that it was kill, or be killed. Regulus had chosen his side before he had even graduated, and this was the price he paid.

A crack resounded through the room, jolting them out of their thoughts, and a few jumped. Kreacher had returned. Giving Sirius his best look of hate, he dumped the potion into his master's hands, but strangely, instead of leaving the room like he was wont to do when Sirius was around, he stayed behind to watch. Ignoring the little elf, Sirius turned back to his younger brother and reached carefully the boy's nose, and pinched it.

Predictably, even in his near-death state, he still needed oxygen, and his lips fell open, in which Sirius wasted no time in pouring down the entire vial down his throat, in which the younger Black began coughing and spluttering, and the bluish tint began to fade from his face. Under Sirius' touch, he could feel his brother warming and coming back to life. Still, those thin eyelids did not flutter.

"He is going to relive the last few moments of his life." Remus, the ever-bookish one, muttered softly under his breath. Unspoken in his old friend's words was a warning. _You may not like what you hear._

But Sirius chose not to heed the warning; there were just some things he had to know. And unfortunately, most involved his brother.


End file.
